Many years ago, a friend told me about a documentary called Kumare. It was about a man who wanted to examine and expose the concept of gurus. Is there truly something divine about gurus? Or are they merely self-aggrandizing people whose perception of reality is distorted in their own favor?

Vikram Ghandi, the creator of this documentary, decided that there was only one way to find out. He would try to become a guru, and if he could do it, then perhaps it would prove that gurus are in no way gifted with divine, god-like energy. They are just people who, for whatever reason, believe in their own ability to shine.

And it's this very thing - the ability to radiate so brightly from within that people are drawn to you - Vikram wanted to prove is within everyone. His intention wasn't so much to expose that gurus are fake, but to help everyone realize they are as spiritual, wise, and worthy as the gurus. The only difference is, the non-gurus haven't learned how to believe in themselves.

When I first watched this movie, I was all in with what Vikram was doing. I was already feeling wary of the side of spirituality that can be dark and exlpoitative. I was aware of several current "gurus" who are really cult leaders, and also of a spiritual retreat that had ended in manslaughter charges due to the reckless and narcissistic behavior of the out of control leader.

I felt the film was thought provoking and did a good job of reinforcing the message it was trying to say. I left it feeling Vikram had done well, and that his work was an excellent contribution to the conversation around spirituality, healing, and faith work.

However, upon recent reflection, I began to feel different. I began to feel I hadn't been compassionate enough to the people who were conned by Vikram. In truth, I hadn't even seen them as being conned. I saw them more as accidental participants in a much needed experiment. I can see now how my need to feel an emotional distance from them sprang from my need not to see myself reflected in them.

The people who showed up to meet and interact with Vikram were in a vulnerable and trusting place. They were sometimes in great pain, and they were looking for a way out. They were not looking to feel duped, which in truth, would only increase their pain and sense of unworthiness.

And I myself was often drowning in deep, bottomless pain then. I couldn't get a hold on my anxiety. I hated everything I did and almost everything about myself. I often wanted to escape my own self, and this inability to be at peace with myself had led me to continuously seek relief and answers. I  was constantly looking for answers outside of myself, whether that be in teachers, writers, speakers, or energy healers. I was desperate for someone to tell me my unhappiness could be resolved externally. In truth, all I needed, all I ever needed, was to look inside and just say, "I accept you as you are."

When I watched Kumare again, I could see how, at any given time in my life, I could be the person who was being set up for the "gotcha!" moment. Had I come across Vikram while I was desperately seeking relief, I very well could have been the person in the film that others were watching with disbelief at their gullibility.

And I would have been angry. I would have felt betrayed. I would not have responded with warmth and acceptance in support of the bigger picture. I think it would have torn me up inside, which is hard to admit, because I really do believe it's a good documentary.

How then do I reconcile my knowledge that I myself wouldn't want to be subject to this, while recognizing this film helped me and continues to help me?

I thought maybe by rewatching the film I'd find some clarity. However, when I got to the end, I did not have a clearer sense of yes, this was a good thing, or no, this was wrong. It's a complicated concept, made more nuanced as Kumare, or Vikram, begins to question what he's doing as the film progresses.

I will say, on this viewing I felt much more empathy for the people who became followers of Kumare. Whereas before, I felt almost snide about their need to feel special through a connection to him, this time I just felt that they were honest and kind people searching for a sense of purpose and belonging. I believe my compassion for them is a reflection of my growing compassion for myself. I don't judge them now because I don't judge myself as much. My evolving inner acceptance and self-love allowed me to see myself in these people, not in an embarrassing way where I had to self-consciously laugh at myself, but in a loving and humbling way.

At the same time, it's also a fascinating journey through the power of belief. If you can make people believe something works, and thereby help them to heal, is it wrong you know you made it up? Why is belief so powerful? What is the mind truly capable of? 

All in all, I believe it's a film worth watching and discussing. It will give you a lot to think about. It's also a great film to watch with skeptics and non-believers, as you will probably feel both your sides are validated and have a lot to talk about. I know it did for me, considering I'm still thinking and writing about it all these years after I first saw it.

And for those that saw Kumare teach the "Blue Light" meditation in the film, I have made a version of it! I was so curious what I would feel, as it seemed to have a profound effect on people, that I couldn't resist exploring it for myself. Now that I've made a real meditation inspired by a fake guru, does that mean Kumare was actually a real guru? Who knows. I believe the answer is different for everyone. You can find out more about my Blue Light meditation here. And you can currently find the Kumare documentary on Tubi.
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​As the protests against racism and white supremacy have swept across the country, I have seen many people (mostly White) focusing on one thing: how awful it is that people are looting and rioting. Considering the fact that protests are ongoing in all fifty states, and many of them go day and night, the average amount of people engaging in violence or looting is less than 1%. Yes, truly. At any given time, tens of thousands of people are actively protesting peacefully in each major city (see example videos below). If you would like to see this live you can find ongoing coverage on Twitter. 

​So if 99% of protests are peaceful, why does so much of the national conversation keep going back to the looting? Why does the news focus on it? It may seem like the natural order of things that people want to talk about the rioting, even if it's a small percent, but it actually gets into much deeper issues that are at the heart of all of this - implicit bias, guilt, and a resistance to talk about our country's history.

Before we get into our conversation about this, I need to make something clear: I am not condoning the rioting or looting. I am writing this to break down why it's the only thing some people want to see. And if you're not one of the people obsessively talking about it, I encourage you to keep reading anyway. It will help you to understand those that are and how deeply ingrained our social conditioning is.

I've broken the discussion up into six parts. Let's dive in.

​When it comes to healing the racial wounds that divide this country into the oppressed and the oppressor, the thing that comes up time and time again as a means to healing is dialogue. We need to talk. And we, as White people, need to listen.

And more importantly, we need to listen when people are expressing their anger. As I have read the accounts of different Black Americans, the thing I continually hear is White Americans only want to listen when it's comfortable. We must be spoken to in soft, calming tones. We want to be reassured we're good people. We want to be told things aren't that bad, and it's okay to let time heal this. We don't want to be made aware of the sense of urgency the Black community lives with.

We, the White people, must be treated like fragile glass eggs that could break at any second. We must not be made aware of the deep residing pain that develops within Black Americans as they live with the daily struggles of racism - from both micro and macro aggressions.

​When white people talk about a person of color in a movie, they will often identify that person by their race or ethnicity. "I really like the black woman, she's..." or "Why did that one guy do that? You know, the Asian one..." We, as white people, are well aware of other people's race and use it as a way to identify them. When we speak about our fellow white people, however, we rarely, if ever, identify them as being white. "The tall woman..." or "The one on the phone."

For us, as white people, we do not see whiteness as a means of description. In our minds, to be white is to exist. To describe the "white woman" or the "white man" wouldn't make sense because, at any given time, we are surrounded by white people and that could mean just about anyone. To white people, we are not a part of a race. We just are.

When it is pointed out that we are in fact part of a racial group, we, as white people, tend to cringe with internal discomfort. We don't like to be thought of as a collective. We like to see ourselves as individuals, free of the constraints of racial identity.

Part of the reason being a member of the white race makes us so uncomfortable is because we know that, historically, a white group was often an angry mob, a conqueror, a system of terror. The white race is associated with the colonization of Native lands (the US, Australia, South Africa, India, etc.), genocide, the KKK, white supremacy, and so on. And not to mention the millions of whites who still, in present times, consider the white race to be superior. To be a part of the white group, the white race, means we are a part of a group that causes inexplicable pain (when I say "white race" I mean as a social concept - there is no biological white race). 

On the other hand, when we as whites identify with the white individual, we connect ourselves with heroes. There is no shortage of white people (mostly men who are straight and able bodied, but that's another conversation), who we feel have contributed valiantly to politics, medicine, art, and science. We loathe the idea of being lumped in with the white race but love the idea of being white individuals. We even fantasize about being the next great white hero, the next Steve Jobs, Tony Robbins, Bill Gates, Marie Curie, Susan B. Anthony, and so on.

We wonder what contribution we'll make, how we'll be remembered, and how our legacy, as the individual we are, will be memorialized.

However, to not identify with a race is something only whites are allowed to do. We can choose to ignore our racial identity because we see whiteness everywhere (the government, tv, movies, CEOs, writers, our neighborhood, restaurants, work, etc). It feels like the norm, and we've internalized it as the norm, thereby negating our need to identify it, because to be white is to just be. Whiteness defines the Western human experience.

​It is so interwoven into the society white Europeans built that we (as white people) don't even realize it's there. Which leads us to believe it's not necessary to acknowledge it, or to claim we're a part of it. For many white people, they would say a part of what? And in that question, they unwillingly acknowledge that society is so intertwined with the white experience that there is no place where they end and everything else begins. You can't acknowledge something you can't see. But, just because we can't see it doesn't mean it's not there. In fact, brown and black people will readily tell you that they see where the white race begins and ends. They see what it means to be white. And because we, as white people, are so used to seeing ourselves everywhere, it's a shock when someone points out that because whiteness has no end, because it so deeply pervades society, it is actively erasing everything that exists beyond its borders.

In other words, to be brown or black is to be invisible. It is to be outside the scope of what we've deemed human existence is. 

Its is only us white people, who cannot perceive of ourselves the way everyone else does, who see our skin color as so universal, so standard, so equated with the very concept of humanity, that we don't even realize that our whiteness is intertwined with the reality we're living. We rarely, if ever, reflect on what it means to be a person of color and interacting with the white race.

In order to root out systematic racism, we as white people must acknowledge the reason it makes us so uncomfortable to be thought of as a white race or a white group. And in acknowledging this, we must come to terms with how other people see us, as white people dominating a diverse world.

As we've talked about so far, we white people prefer to be defined as individuals. That's what we've been socialized to believe we are. And so when we enter a room with people of color, we don't register why our presence would make anyone there uncomfortable. In our minds, we project onto them our individual qualities. We think they see a person who is kind. Or a person who is funny. A person who is warm and loving.

However, upon looking at me, or you, or anyone else who is white, there is no way to know who you are individually. What you are, to people who don't know you, is a white person. You may be racist. You may not be. You might be a white supremacist. Or you might not be. You might wish harm onto people of color. Or maybe not. How can anyone tell by looking at you?

We as white people must realize that although our intentions are good, we are part of a race of people that calls the cops on a black family having a bbq. We are part of a race of people who calls the cops on two black men sitting in Starbucks, waiting for a meeting to start. We are part of a race of people who have been caught on video killing black people.

Therefore, we must acknowedlge that although we believe ourselves to be good people, when we walk into a room, down a street, or get on a bus, there's no way to know whether or not we're the next Karen. There's no way to know if we're about to exert terror on an unsuspecting person of color.

There. Is. No. Way. To. Know.

As I learned about identity, racism, and where I stood in it all, it was hard to reconcile the public perception many people hold of me with my private self. To come to realize my presence caused people anxiety and uncertainty was something I wanted to deny. Surely not me. Them, yes. But not me. And that is me returning to my insistence that I be seen as an individual, and not a member of the white race.

And now you might be thinking That's not fair! I'm not racist! I'm a GOOD person!

All I can say is, now you are beginning to understand how it feels to be judged for your skin color. But make no mistake - the way white people are judged is incomparable to the way people of color are judged. You will not be killed for being white. You will not have a police officer kneel on your neck with his hands in his pockets, casually strangling the life out of you. You will not lose out on jobs, housing, or loans because you are white.

Rather, you will benefit. Being white is not going to derail your life. It's going to accelerate it (many people refuse to hear this point because discrimination is illegal. Legality does not stop people from committing crimes. If it did we would not have robbers and rapists. People break the law all the time. The only way to stop discrimination is to stop racism).

We may not like that we are a race, and one of the main reasons we don't is we've never had to think of ourselves that way. Generalizing and grouping people by race is thus far something that has been done by white people and not to them. We exempted ourselves and therefore respond with anger, defensiveness, and wounded pride when it's done to us. When we are asked to see ourselves as white, our knee jerk reaction is to claim we are not racist. We're not like those people. We're different. We're an individual. We proclaim this with pride, without a hint of irony that our insistence on being seen as an individual, rather than a member of a socially constructed race, can only be done if we grant ourselves special privileges no other race has.

For more on this I highly recommend the book Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria (make sure you get the updated version - the first edition was published two decades ago). This series will be continued with part 3 - what does it mean to be a good ally?

When Michelle met with a group of teenage girls, one of them asked her how she feels about transitioning back to her normal life. How would Michelle navigate the leap from First Lady back to the life she was living before? How would she get back on track?

I love this quote because so many of us are currently in a place of transition. Due to the current circumstances, many of us are facing the reality that we cannot do, or don't want to do, what we've been doing. We're also acknowledging that life won't be like it was before, and we have to create a new track. Considering what it would be like to go from the all-consuming role as First Lady onto a completely new, unknown role, inspired me to embrace the unknown and the new with courage and integrity.

In a later group meeting with young black women (Michelle speaks often in the film about her passion for working with the youth), Rayven asked a powerful question:

One thing I loved about this film was how open Michelle was about racial inequality in this country. It's something she wasn't able to speak so directly to while she was First Lady. And I also love how she empowered each one of those women with her words. She didn't ask them to wait for something outside of them to change. She asked them to change their circumstances within while at the same time acknowledging we are not on an even playing field. This is so important because I see so many people who say the first part - change begins within. But they don't do the second part, which is to validate the affect that oppression and bias has.

"I have high expectations of young people. It's the same expectations my family had of me. My grandfather, Dandy, expected us to be great. But he went through life being underestimated. Growing up, he was a brilliant young man, somebody that loved to read books, to delve into things in a deep and meaningful way. He could have been a professor. He could have been a doctor. But because of race and class, he couldn't get into colleges. He didn't have the money or the resources. And imagine walking around with all this ability and the world telling you, "No. No, you're not good enough. No, you're not ready." Watching people half your intelligence being promoted past you. Watching opportunities slip away, Not because you're not able, but because nobody thinks you deserve it.That caused him a lot of disappointment and anger. That made him push us to be better." - Michelle Obama, Becoming

Of all the quotes in the movie, this one stood out to me the most. It struck me not only because of the anger I would feel if I was Dandy's granddaughter, but because this is still the world we live in. We still promote people based on the fact that they fit an inner ideal of what we think a successful person should look like. Until we tear down all our prejudices, we will continue to all lose out on the brilliance and ingenuity of so many of our fellow citizens.

"I ended up going to Princeton. I was one of a handful of minority students. It was the first time in my life where I stood out like that. I learned that one of my roommates moved out because her mother was horrified that I was black. She felt her daughter was in danger. I wasn't prepared for that." - Michelle Obama, Becoming

This quote also stood out to me above all the others. If someone couldn't live with me because my skin color made them afraid, and I was a young girl, finding my place in the world, I wouldn't know what to do. Can you imagine the impact that would have on a young, developing psyche? And as with the quote above, this is still the reality of the world we live in. No one should have to question their worthiness or their humanity because of the ignorance of another person.

This was one of the last quotes I noted. I had about six other quotes highlighted, which I cut because I wanted to end with this one. What stands out to me about this quote is the reminder that Obama filled arenas on hope. It's such a powerful reminder because I so often see our current president filling arenas based on anger, division, and bullying. I had forgotten that not long ago, hundreds of thousands of people also filled arenas, and on a message of hope and unity. Those people are still out there. And if, after all she's been through, Michelle can still believe in the goodness of people and this country, then I can too.

I wish I could have put down all the quotes from the film I'd saved. There were so many moments I paused, reflected on her words, and thought about the class and gracefulness she brought to everything she did and does. But the thing that really surprised me was how funny Michelle is. We all know she has a brilliant mind and an inspiring, forward thinking spirit. What I had never seen before was how funny and charismatic she is. 

Becoming is available to stream on Netflix. I hope you get a chance to see it also! And now I'm off to download the audio book because I love hearing author's tell me their story in their own voice.